True Story©… Home Alone

 

     I really do need an adult most of the time…

As of last Friday, I’m informed that my work-from-home situation goes from “indefinite” to permanent effective next week.
When I came home to work one year minus two weeks ago today, I had to make my PC space into my bill-paying work space.  It took me thirteen and a half years with the company to finally get a window seat.  Kind of unfortunate that I am the one paying for the window.  Whatever, the dogs and I get to spend my working hours watching and barking at the world go by the front of the house.

     That arrangement is cool when I am sitting at the work computer doing work things.  Sometimes, though, I need to Google things for True Story©, or use language that is not safe for work during my internet journey and need to do so. 
Don’t worry about that right now though, it will be back later.

     Wife person, being a teacher and all, has been vaccinated and dispatched back to the schoolhouse to continue to educate you peoples’ crotch goblins.  Yep, that means that on weeks I am not in the house with the elementary schoolers who we've opted to keep virtual, I am home alone.  We have carpeted floors, and I don’t tend to wear socks unless I am leaving the house for something, so I can’t do the Risky Business floor slide thing and perform for Bruiser and Thunder.
I know what you’re thinking.  This all starts with me without adult supervision, progresses to me raiding the liquor rack as soon as she leaves in the morning, then into one of my (mis)adventures.  Well I will have you know that I am not doing carbs or alcohol during the month of March, so any shenanigous behavior will have to find me sober and with a healthy glycemic index.

     So discussing the placement of my computer(s).  My work computer is 8 feet from the door that we actually use.  I see everything that comes in or leaves, I see everything that approaches either door.
My personal, though?  My back is to the windows and it faces an angle such that the door we use is just out of my periphery due mostly to the nerve damage in my left eye.
And now we’re back in business…

     I am quite efficient at the finite elements of my job and therefore I find myself with plenty of business-hours-time to scour the internet for memes, wade through what remains of Tumblr since the adult content exodus, e-commerce and searching for  random nonsense for True Story©.
So it’s Tuesday morning, right?  I cook breakfast, wife person leaves for work, and then I cook MY breakfast.  I am using my free hand to scroll though some nonsensical story I’d clicked on while I waited for my omelet to set before flipping it.  Again, personal computer and not the work one, so I have no indication that anyone is approaching or what is taking place around my house other than the boys barking.  That could really be nothing more than my neighbor coming home from work or one of the neighborhood retirees walking their dogs past the house.  I am used to ignoring it.

     Except I shouldn’t have ignored them this time.  I get up to get some water and there is a man standing in the doorway with his badge out.
I pick up the puppy (he’s a runner) and crack the door.

Me: “May I help you?”

Agent: “Agent [redacted], FBI.  Can we talk to you for a second?”

Me: “’We’?”

Agent: “Well, there is me and there’s--…”

Just then from both sides of my porch, four agents approach with guns drawn demanding that I put my hands up and get on the ground.

Me: “I kinda can’t get on the ground or put my hands up, y’see I got this puppy…”

Agent: “Sir, we are not amused.”

Me: “You should lighten up a bit. Look at this shaggy little dude!”

Agent: “So, those questions we had…”

Me: “I don’t talk to cops.”

Agent: “We aren’t the cops.  You can answer my questions or your life can be made incredibly difficult, and then you will answer our questions.”

Me: “I ain’t getting on the ground for y’all to execute me here in my front yard.”

Agent: “Fair is fair.  Can you come with us?”

Me: “No”

Agent: “What?”

Me: “You have a warrant?  Am I under arrest?”

Agent: “Would you like to be?”

Me: “Heavens no!  I got this puppy, and I am on the clock.”

Agent: “Well--…”

Me: “You’ll talk to me right here.”

Agent: “Well based on your Google searches, we’re concerned about what it is you’re doing here.  I mean, we see there’s been some attention to your residence about drug manufacturing and--…”

Me: “WAIT!”

Agent: “Hm?”

Me: “Look back over the report of the ‘drug manufacturing’ claim.”

Agent: “We did.”

Me: “So you know that it was legitimate business.”

Agent: “Indeed.”

Me: “Then you shall never mention it again.”

Agent: “Fair.”

Me: “So what is it you want with me?”

Agent: “We’re deeply concerned with the nature of your web searches.”

Me: “Look, I ain’t no predator, but if you go to that street right there, there are two registered offenders; one I have known since I was 6--…”

Agent: “Not that kind of stuff.”

Me: “What, then?”

Agent: “We’re worried about terrorism.”

Me: “I don’t have any weapons in here.”

Agent: “Look, can I come in and sit down?”

Me: “You cannot come in my house without a warrant.  I will grab a couple of lawn chairs.”

I reached back behind the door and grabbed three chairs and we sat out front.

Agent: “We’re concerned about your interest in what appears to be what we might call…  ‘enhanced’ interrogation techniques.”

Me: “You mean like the ones y’all stole from South Park during the Bush43 admin?”

Agent: “No, like--…”

Agent 2: “…  like that tweet you posted year before last about ziptying someone to a chair and forcing them to watch episodes of Wonderpets.”

Me: “Heh.”

Agent 2: “Just let me say, man…  I am a FAN of your work.”

Agent 3: “Hey, what about the one where he--…”

Agent 1: “Gentlemen!  We’re being professionals here.  We’re discussing things like the cicada box.  You’ve gone into detail about the layout and construction.  This seems dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands.”

Me: “And by ‘wrong hands’ you mean…”

Agent 1: “Listen, all we’re trying to do--…”

Me: “Look…  It is apparent your goons here are fans of my work.  I am a very busy man and--…”

Agent 3: “OOH OOH, THE ONE WHERE HE ROBBED SANTA CLAUS!”

Agent 4: “There’s this one vid you found on PornHub a few weeks ago, the one with--…”

Me: “Good day, gentlemen.”

     With that, I repossessed my chairs, grabbed up my little shaggy dog and came back in to continue my workday, closing and locking the door as I watched them get into the van across the street and leave.

     I’d always had this sneaking suspicion that there were agents watching my activity here.  After this week’s visit without my normal adult supervision, it is now obvious.
Looks like I’m going to have to start doing the research in Incognito Mode from now on.

Hey…  At least they didn’t kidnap me and try to shake me down this time.  Heck, these jerks couldn't even be bothered to look into when their own people grabbed me up last time!  

From now on, I will not even acknowledge them without Wife Person here to protect me from myself.